


Book your next getaway with Asgardian Cruise Lines!

by electricchicken



Category: Everworld Series - K. A. Applegate
Genre: M/M, Oh My God, the only kink meme story!, where did this come from?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricchicken/pseuds/electricchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David gets the feeling there's been a flaw in his strategy, somewhere.</p><p>(So far as I know, the only thing to come out of the EW kink meme on LJ to date. For 1001cranes, who asked for something with a bit of size kink.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Book your next getaway with Asgardian Cruise Lines!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1001cranes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001cranes/gifts).



Loki is by no means the first god to make a pass at David.

  
This far into the campaign against Ka Anor, he's lost track of how many love goddesses he's found waiting in his bed on the rare nights he makes it there himself, how many invitations to dinner or parties he's shrugged off from too-friendly nymphs and fairies and centaurs and satyrs and creatures he doesn't even recognize, how many kisses and gropes he's stonewalled from the leading figures in more mythologies than he knew existed.

  
Somewhere on the other side of an improbable number of rooms and walls, a wave crashes against the side of the ship, and the wall at his back lists slightly to starboard. They've been at sea long enough he rarely notices the lurches of a high seas storm, let alone the small, continuous shifts. Then again, sea legs only count for anything when you're supporting your own weight.

  
Between his legs, Loki's thigh presses closer, as though there's anywhere new for it to go when the god's already pushed him onto his toes, off the floor, a foot off the ground. Pinned him there, one hand around each bicep with room to spare, like it's nothing to take his weight (which, David's well aware, it is).

  
There is nothing that isn't ridiculous about this situation.

  
It starts with the boat – a Viking longboat at about 20 times its natural size, too many floors and cargo holds to count and even more oarsmen. “Asgardian Cruise Lines at your service,” Christopher had muttered just loud enough for approximately everyone on the dock to hear back in Olympus. “You think they've got shuffleboard?”

  
And that's not even mentioning their cargo which, depending on how user-friendly Jalil is feeling, is either some unpronounceable explosive combination, or the biggest, baddest ant-trap turned bomb in any dimension. Or the half dismantled trebuchet loaded on the deck that may or may not launch it straight down Ka Anor's throat, depending on further testing.

  
Then there's the armada somewhere else on the ocean, making its way to their Dagger Mouth rendezvous point, carrying somewhere between half and most of the adult male population of Everworld, depending on how well the recruitment teams are doing. And the war council David's been making notes for since the last full moon, that convenes the second Asgardian Cruises pulls into port and will either be a disaster of epic proportions or the beginning of the final push of a campaign he can barely remember the start of, some days.

  
All that, and he doesn't have time for this, he thinks. Loki hasn't even kissed him. Just keeps staring with green cat's eyes, smiling at him with too sharp teeth. This close David can see faded white puncture scars outlining both lips, and he might remember the legend those belong to, kind of.

  
Really, Loki's coming late to the game. A hundred gods try and fail, and now he wades in and David can't even begin to figure out why this would seem like the ideal time.

  
Except that maybe, when they've been discussing strategy the last few days, he's had a hard time looking away from those curved and pointed canines.  
The boat rocks again, or maybe that's just Loki, and David sucks in air as slow as he can manage. Doesn't let himself swallow the lump in his throat, replenish the spit in his dry mouth.

  
There is a very good – okay, pretty much 100 per cent – chance that he's at least halfway hard, but David's stared down gods who liked him far less than he thinks this one does, and sometimes the only way to deal with weakness is to pretend it out of existence. Though in previous cases he's been dealing with things like manacles or a seriously drunk and talkative Christoper or large amounts of his own blood leaking onto imperial carpet. Manageable issues.

  
And Loki – Loki is definitely hard, because David may be on his way to becoming a champion at compartmentalization, but he's not _dead_. Hard and, from the feel of it, big in a way that makes David's insides knot, and he's still not going to let himself swallow, or breathe out, if that's what it takes.

  
No one is dying and no one's supposed friend has had enough wine to cause a serious diplomatic incident with the daughter of a not-particularly enthusiastic new ally and he can stare Loki down all night if he has to.

  
“Your heart's racing,” Loki says with the same unchanging grin, and David grinds his teeth.

  
It would be one thing if something had set this off. Some late night strategy session with maybe a little too much teeth-staring on his part, or knees brushing under the table, or any of the dozens of subtle and not-so-much flirting techniques he's been exposed to since he became Everworld's most eligible leader of alien-fighting forces.

  
But there's been none of the attempted grape feeding or hair stroking or... other body part stroking that he's come to associate with being hit on by immortals who get turned down maybe once a millennium or so. He and Loki hadn't been in the same section of the ship, so far as he knew, before he barged in here and backed David up against the wall.

  
There was a moment in there where he should have objected. This many minutes in, nothing to do but wait it out.

  
It wouldn't be so bad if Loki would at least kiss him. Push his tongue into David's mouth, dig those sharp teeth into his lower lip. Break the tension and give them some way to pull out of this. A chance to turn his head away and not respond and send the message home.

  
And so maybe he inclines his head a little, to speed things along. Loki mirrors the action, but doesn't bring their faces closer together. Rocks his hips a little, though, or lets the movement of the waves roll them together yet again. Whichever. If they stay like this long enough, David wonders if he could come from this.

  
Suppressing the shudder that queues up take all the willpower he's got, including the bits that were keeping that swallow at bay.

  
Shit.

  
“I don't have time for this,” he says, and it comes out pretty level. Only a little ragged, just at the end.

  
Loki makes a little, not too concerned “mmhm?” sound in the back of his throat. Still fucking grinning. Still not fucking moving. The only strategic move David can come up with is to close his eyes and let his head thump back against the wall.

  
The hand that curls in his hair and yanks his head back up cups most of his skull. Loki's eyes are a little narrower, his smile a little sharper. And his teeth hurt just the way David imagined they would when he uses his freed arm to crush their mouths together. He doesn't think of Loki as being all that broad – compared to Thor or even Baldur he's whip thin – but David can feel the strain in his thighs and hips when he pulls his legs up, wraps them around his waist.

  
He thinks he tastes blood when one of Loki's teeth nicks the inside of his lip, and that shouldn't make his hips buck like they do. His back is all the way off the wall now, both arms free as Loki's hands move –

  
To either side of David's torso, under his arms, pulling him off to set him (prop him) back against the wall.

  
“We dock in three days. If you find time in your schedule,” Loki pauses, rakes his eyes over David, who's still trying to find something to use as a handhold in the smooth cabin wall. “You'll find me.”

  
As he lets his knees give out and slides down the wall, David gets the feeling there's been a flaw in his strategy, somewhere.


End file.
